


The Language of Flowers

by onenotseen



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Few Spoilers up to the Winter War Arc, Flowers, Gen, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Build, Stalking, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onenotseen/pseuds/onenotseen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first day he sees that man, he is suspicious. The second time he sees him, he is walking around the hallways at his school. The third time, he is telling Ichigo that his name is Aizen Sousuke, and that he is a God who has been watching him since birth.<br/>Unfortunately, it seems that Aizen will not leave him alone, and Ichigo is not entirely sure as to why. Did he mention that Aizen keeps leaving him flowers?<br/>A story about Gods, the language of flowers, and how sometimes we are introduced to destiny</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

     Ichigo had always had a normal life. He went to a decent high school where he got average grades, and did not participate in any clubs. There were a few people there that he could call friends, if he really wanted to, but he was not really close to them.

     However, it was a step-up from his middle school days when thugs would try to beat him up because of his unusual orange hair. There was always something about him that others would find a way to hate. Having naturally bright hair made Ichigo stick out in any situation. Unfortunately, it was mostly just assumed that he was some worthless punk who didn’t give a shit about anyone. If only that were true.

     His family was more or less normal, as well. Kurosaki Isshin, his dad, was a total goat-faced idiot who found it entertaining to dramatically kick Ichigo whenever he entered the room. Ichigo had gotten used to the sudden attacks, and in turn learned to dodge them. Isshin always complained about his moody, teenage son to a large-scale poster with a picture of Ichigo’s mom splayed across it. It pissed off Ichigo whenever he did that.

     Karin, Ichigo’s tomboy sister, always told him off as well. She had a smart head on her shoulders, that was for sure. Not to mention, she could beat any boy her age on the soccer field. It was pathetic, really.

     Yuzu was the only gentle one in the family, aside from Ichigo’s deceased mother. Also, she is the only family member who can cook a delicious meal.  
Anyway, it was the same events that happened almost every day and every night. Occasionally, a ghost or two would follow Ichigo home. He had always been able to see them, despite their inability to realize that they were visible to him. Karin could sense their presence, as well.

     It never occurred to him that this was not a normal skill to have because he was so used to it. It even got annoying sometimes when the ghosts would follow him to school and talk his ear off during a test.

     Aside from that, Ichigo lived a very normal life. But lately, he had been feeling very bored with the whole scene.

     There was one thing worth noting, however. The night Masaki, Ichigo’s mom, died he was there to witness it. Even though he was very young, and unable to predict what was about to befall her, Ichigo still blamed himself for her premature demise. The medical examiner determined that her cause of death was internal bleeding, but Ichigo still remembered her running out to rescue him. He thought he saw a lady jumping into a river, only to be swept to the side by his mother and pinned to the ground by her still-warm body. And maybe she had died of internal bleeding, but there was no reason for her to have, right? All Ichigo knew was that if he hadn’t run off, then she would not have died that day.

     But in this stagnant life, Ichigo had always felt that he was not the same as his peers. Maybe it was because he witnessed his own mother’s death. But, Arisawa Tatsuki, a girl he had known since his childhood, had once told him that he had a strange energy surrounding him. When he questioned her, she merely stated that she had always sensed it, but it had never bothered her.

     As he got older and entered high school, Ichigo realized what she was talking about. He almost felt like there was a buzzing just beneath his skin, as if his whole body was anxious to move, to do something. Like there was a purpose that he was meant to fulfill in his life, and the time was coming up for him to start something. But what?


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Ichigo sees him.

     It is just after two in the afternoon on a Thursday afternoon, and all of the classes have been let out for the day. It is a surprisingly sunny afternoon for early May, considering that it is still officially the rainy season. This is probably why everyone is so boisterous as they gather their things and make their way to their respective clubs, cram schools and homes. As for Arisawa Tatsuki, a senior at this high school, she also is just as full of energy due to the rare pleasant climate.

“Ichigo,” She drawls, coming up behind his shoulder suddenly, “are you up for some one-on-one soccer practice?”

“Ehh,” the orange-haired teenager scowls when he is addressed. “Well….sure. I got nothing better to do after school anyway.”

The sporty girl laughs shortly at his nonchalance and runs ahead down the hallway towards the locker room.

“I’ll see you on the field in five!”

Ichigo gives her a salute in affirmative.

**❀**

     He gets there in ten minutes. When Tatsuki sees him walking over from the building, she stands up from the metal spectator bench and meets him at the goal, soccer ball in hand. He has a frown on, but she knows that it is just his normal expression. His smiles were long since faded after that day.

     “Yo, Arisawa.”

     Ichigo has a habit of using only people’s last names, sans honorifics. Even if he has known them since he was a five-year-old crybaby, he is still so distant. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, shoulders back. Tatsuki observed his soccer shorts, wristbands and t-shirt that were so casually worn that it gave him a badass look that was definitely unintentional. She fingered her own orange wristband before meeting his lazy eyes.

     “It’s a nice day for soccer, isn’t it? I can’t remember the last time we played.”

     “Hm,” Ichigo replies in agreement. “I never really gave much care as to what the weather is like. I just can’t stand the rain.”

     The girl with spikey hair drops the ball in front of her right foot and starts bouncing it around.

     “Want to practice shooting? I’ll go first.”

     She dribbles down the field to the other goal, kicking up fresh dust on the recently flattened dirt. Ichigo follows her, catching up and taking his stance in the goal. Luckily the sun is to his back, and not shining right in face otherwise he would probably get some bad bruises from being hit by Tatsuki’s killer kick. For a few times, he has to run a ways from the field to retrieve the ball, so he is working up quite a sweat.

     They switch their roles as the sun is starting to fall lower into the horizon, casting a hazy orange glow on everything. The shadows start to become longer, and the wind picks up, blowing dust into their eyes and noses.

     Ichigo is going for his fifth shot at the goal, and the timing with his dribbling is going really well. He is almost to the point where he wants to kick it when he realizes that he will have to take at least another step to get his right foot back in time, but that means that he will be too close to the goal.

     In the last moment, he takes his step and then kicks, trying to aim to Tatsuki’s left. He overshoots it, and the ball seems to be so close to clearing the side post of the goal, when a really strong gust of wind bellows past it, sending the ball bouncing off the metal and flying back, beyond the sports supply shed.

     Tatsuki immediately starts running to retrieve it, but it is hard to tell how far away it went because there are dense woods behind the supply shed.

     Ichigo waits a minute, looking towards the direction where his classmate had disappeared to not long before. Why was that wind so powerful in that moment? It was ridiculous.

     The sun started to blind Ichigo, so he turned around towards the school to get some relief, but something else drew his attention away from his previous thoughts.

     There was a metal railing between the sports fields and the road outside of the school that blocked cars from entering. The metal was reflecting a lot of light in one spot, which almost made him miss the man leaning casually on the barrier.

     The man was exceedingly tall, and he was wearing a finely cut suit of clean white with a straight magenta tie. While those clothes were strange enough to be seen wearing at a school, that was not even what Ichigo noticed about him.

     He focused in on the man’s face; it was a very strikingly handsome face. While his features were sharp, his expression was soft and calm. Warm brown eyes, slightly narrowed, were eclipsed by a single lock of wavy brown hair falling down from the top of his head. His neat black shoes shone, pointing forward gave him an air of confidence.

     Why was this man here? Ichigo could not figure out why he had not noticed him earlier. Had he just arrived?

     And was he….smiling? Yes. The orange-haired boy saw that the man was absolutely smirking at him. His head of brown hair turned slightly, tilting a bit to the side as if too lazy to move any more than he already had. He felt as if the man was glad that Ichigo had just suddenly noticed him. The thought caused cold tingles to rain down his body.

     Was that man watching them the whole time? Ichigo felt a lurch in his belly button. Suddenly the need to go home immediately arose.

     “Ichigo!” A feminine voice called from not too far away.

     Tatsuki was running from the direction of the shack, back towards the field. She had the ball under her right arm, and was waving to get his attention. Ichigo turned away from the man to see her approach.

     “Ichigo, I found it,” Tatsuki panted as she arrived, “it bounced up and got stuck on a low tree branch. What’s wrong?”

     It felt almost as if he was woken up from a dream-state, where his arms and legs were momentarily weak, and his mind slow. He finally looked to her face, focusing in his vision.

     “What? Nothing. It’s almost five now. I should probably get home before the old man decides that I have been courted by older women,” Ichigo states.

     Tatsuki grins at the thought. Ichigo’s dad would totally say that kind of thing based on the few times that she met him. Though, she did notice that Ichigo had been staring off in the distance, the look of importance back in his eyes. He got that look sometimes. Most wrote it off as a general bad mood, though Tatsuki wondered what could be so serious this time. He only got that look when something big was up.

     They walk back to the building in a companionable silence. Ichigo takes a glance back at the metal railing, but there is no one there. He doesn’t even want to look, at first, but the thought of never knowing if the man was still there was too disturbing.

     The two part ways when they get to the locker rooms, and are soon walking home. Arisawa laments the fact that her best friend, Inoue Orihime could not stick around long enough to walk home with her. She always cheered her up whenever she felt unsettled. The girl made her feel like everything was safe in the world.

     Meanwhile, Ichigo stares intently at the sidewalk, bag slung over his shoulder along with his grey uniform jacket. The image of brown hair, slanted eyes and a satisfied smile kept popping into his head. Why did he get the feeling back there that he was being watched by that man?

**❀**

 

     Evening in the Kurosaki household went the same as usual. Yuzu made chicken katsu for dinner, and Ichigo’s dad kept suggesting family bonding exercises to do. The seventeen-year-old barely ate anything, much to Yuzu’s chagrin, and gave the excuse of homework to retire early to his room. Of course, Kurosaki Isshin made a big deal out of his whole departure, but a swift kick to the man’s face dealt with that situation, and Ichigo was free to be alone in his room.

     He attempted to write an introduction to his history paper for a while, but left his notebook and pencil on the desk in favor of lying facedown on his bed. It was times like these that he wished his mom were here to entertain and consort with his dad and his sisters. When she was around, they all had someone to talk to, and someone to get affection from. If she were still alive today…Ichigo grips his hands into fists at the memory of that rainy night.

     The teen sometimes wonders why the events in his life had worked out the way that they had. If there were such things like Gods who controlled the fate of human beings, surely they would spare the life of the innocent. It was always the ghosts of children that he was reminded of. There was no one more lost and betrayed than a child who died and had to roam the human world alone, and without protection.

     He sighs, sinking his face deeper into the pillow that his arms are wrapped around. A pocket of heat is trapped under, though his hands hurt slightly from the lack of circulation. It is such a physical, bodily discomfort caused by such a simple task of lying on top of one’s own arms.

     As Ichigo starts to feel more drowsy in his comfortable bed, he remembers the shooting he practiced with Tatsuki, and the unusual stranger leaning on the guard rails. The strange part was that the other teen did not even see him, or if she did, she did not comment on his presence. It was almost as if she did not even notice that he was there….and that the sharply-dressed man did not wish her to, either.

     The idea struck a chord of surprise in the orange-haired boy’s stomach. Was he specifically looking at Ichigo? But Ichigo did not know the man, and there was no way for someone like him to know a random high school student. It isn’t like some drama about a model, or an actress that gets followed around by rabid fans who will not leave them alone.

     Perhaps the man was looking for a high school for his children to attend. Then again, he did look rather young to have kids Ichigo’s age. It could be that he was simply taking a walk to take in the nice weather, and happened upon two people playing soccer, which he found to be entertaining.

     That is the most likely scenario out of all of the others. Strange stuff like in television dramas does not happen in real life. And it especially does not happen to people like Ichigo, who are entirely unremarkable.

     A cold breeze follows that thought, and he notices that his window is open. He gets up from his bed and slides it shut with a click, and wonders what it would be like if he never woke up from this night of sleep.

**❀**

 

     Though Kurosaki Isshin is teasing his daughters as they work diligently on their homework, he looks to the ceiling once in a while and wonders if he is making a mistake. Masaki would know how to heal their son. And she would know what actions to take now that the presence of another _one_ has shown itself in this peaceful town that she loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still really need a beta. I think this story could be executed better if I had someone to look it over and make suggestions. Please message me if being a beta for this fic sounds appealing at all.  
> I don't know why this chapter is so short...perhaps because I did not want to get too far into the plot from the get-go.  
> Also, there is some formatting problems in the first section that I cannot seem to fix. Sorry for the strange indents.  
> I really like next chapter.  
> I hope you enjoy my fic.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't complete, but its all I have and I wanted to post something. So, I'll fix it up later.

Another week passed in the month of May, and with it came Spring. The school uniforms were finally feeling appropriate for the warmer weather, which meant that it would be a couple of months before summer break started.

            But before that, the soon-to-be seniors had to start working on their final project that would be due at the end of next winter. They only had a year to work on it, and the whole first month of the term was focused entirely on deciding what their project would be, and how they were going to work on it.

            “I have thought about taking an internship a daycare to see firsthand what the work is like,” Chizuru muses, leaning on Orihime’s desk and adjusting her red glasses.

            “Chizuru-san is interested in working with children?” Orihime asks.

            “Mmm, what is my sweet Orihime-chan interested in doing?”

            “Well…” Orihime looks out of the window to her left. A clouded look enters her grey eyes, which makes Tatsuki frown. Tatsuki pulls up her own chair, and gets her friend’s attention.

            “Don’t think too hard about it, Orihime,” Tatsuki says. “I don’t think she meant it to be asking about your life’s ambitions.”

            “Ohhh, no, Tastuki-chan!” Orihime waves her hands in denial. “I was just wondering if I was even cut out to be a policeman.”

            “You mean, a police _woman_ , Orihime-hime,” Chizuru croons from her elbow.

            “What makes you want to be a policeman, Inoue?” A voice asks from behind her. The three twist around to see a scowling teen with orange hair. As usual, he has his bag slung over his shoulder in an, ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ kind of look.

            Orihime starts stuttering and waving her arms around in an awkward fashion.

            “Doesn’t police work seem so....action-packed? I mean, not that I _like_ all that violence. But I mean, WHAM and wha-cha! You know what I mean?”

            All three of her classmates looked at her as if she were positively insane. Tatsuki knew that she tended to get so lost in her own fantasies, and this was more than likely one of those times.

            “So that is what you like about it?” Kurosaki asks.

            “What?”

            “The action and the crime-busting?”

            “Um…kind of. I guess it is kind of like being the hero, in some ways,” she muses.

            “But the cops don’t always save people. A lot of times the criminals get away.”

            “Yeah, but-“

            “So you are satisfied with only saving their lives some of the time? If you let them die, then you are just as bad as the criminals themselves!”

            “Ichigo!” Tatsuki shouts, standing up. “What a horrible thing to say!”

            “Hmph.”

            “Orihime-chan, are you okay?” Chizuru cries loudly. “Are your feelings hurt? Don’t cry, my Princess!”

            “It’s okay.”

            Everyone looks to the girl with long hair.

            “He’s right. If I accept failure, then I am no hero.”

            “Orihime, no one is perfect. Don’t let Ichigo tell you what you can do,” Tatsuki says.

            “Nah, it’s okay, Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime says, through an attempted smile. “Really.”

            Tatsuki sighed, pushing her fingers against her forehead in frustration. Her childhood friend was much too meek.

            At that moment, the teacher walks in and everyone settles down at their desks to start another day of class.

            However, Orihime was distracted by the scowling face of Kurosaki Ichigo. He had his hands folded in front of his mouth, and a wrinkle between his eyebrows. It was not usual for him to talk to her, let alone give his personal opinions. Orihime worried that perhaps something was bothering him. She wished there was some way to make him stop frowning in such a scary way.

**❀**

            The school bell rang out Westminster chimes and Keigo was bobbing up and down, trying to convince Mizuiro and Chad to go with him to the arcade because they are hosting an event dedicated to some spiritual master called Don Kanonji. Mizuiro always acted stubborn and above such events, but in reality he loved mystical things like psychics and people who talk to ghosts.

            As they spoke gregariously outside of the school, the doors suddenly opened and out strode Kurosaki Ichigo, shoulders squared and looking like he could not give a care. He has to pass through their group on the sidewalk to continue past to the streets.

            “Kurosaki,” Keigo called, waving, “we are going to see Don Kanonji. Do you wanna go? It will be so boring if I’m just going with Sado and Mizuiro.”

            He jokingly pouts and hikes a thumb at the two friends that he was complaining about. Chad didn’t react, but Mizuiro gave Keigo a hit on his head.

            “No….”Ichigo looked toward the ceiling to the left, “….I have something important to do. Maybe later. Seeya later, guys.”

            The group stared at his retreating back for a minute before Keigo gave a high whistle and expressed his annoyance at everyone’s lack of enthusiasm lately.

            Meanwhile, Ichigo took the long route back to his house. He could almost feel the weight of the object hidden in his school bag. He had found it just after the school day ended.

            He went to his locker, as usual, and set down his bag on the floor in front of his row. He reached his hand into the slot, expecting his shoes to be facing with the toes toward the back wall like he always put them, but instead they were turned the other way, and his hand collided with something soft. He pulled the shoes out, and something intensely blue in color caught his eye from where it was poking out of the right heel.

            Ichigo stood still for a moment, simply looking at it. The shape told him that it was indeed a rose, but it had been dyed an intense indigo color that was not found in nature. The teen frowned and took the rose out, tucking it in his bag and quickly changing shoes.

            Thinking back on the moment, Ichigo briefly wonders again if it was really a tangible rose, and not just something he had entirely conjured from his imagination. Brown eyes searched the street for anyone who might be watching, but there was no one, so he reached in his bag and took out the rose. It was slightly crumpled from being squished in the bag. He thought it was a bit of a shame, as it was so beautiful when he had first found it.

            He tucks the stem in the loop on his bag, and keeps walking. Once he’s a block from his family’s hospital, he notices that there are the sound of footsteps following behind him. He glances at the reflection in a house window and sees a girl with long caramel colored hair, so he turns around.

            “Inoue,” Ichigo calls to the girl who also stopped walking. “Why are you following me?”

            The girl looks very flustered, but doesn’t resort to her usual playful gestures that she does when she gets nervous. Instead, she points a finger at the flower dangling from Ichigo’s school bag.

            “I was wondering…who gave that to Kurosaki-kun,” she says simply.

            “How do you know I didn’t buy it?” He answers, a bit threateningly.

            “It’s not like Kurosaki-kun to buy such things,” she says with a smile. “But the message is a bit confusing, no?”

            “Message?”

            What is this girl talking about? She has the strangest notions in her head most of the time. It’s like she lives in an entirely different reality than most. But she just smiles at the question.

            “Well, I remember reading a poem about a blue rose in literature class that was written over five hundred years ago. It went like this:

“ _I see once on the pyre_

_A princess of delicate feature_

_Whose image will haunt dreams._

_Her attention I draw with this rose_

_For its color is deeper than the sea_

_And thus grew her eternal curiosity of me._

_Though long I had noticed her,_

_It was long before a smile befell her lips_

_In my very presence.”_

“You have a good memory,” Ichigo replies. “But what does that mean?”

            “It’s about a man who draws the attention of a princess with the mystery of a blue rose. Because it does not occur in nature, the rose made her wonder about him.”

            Ichigo coughs awkwardly.

            “Well…since you like it so much, you can have it, Inoue,” Ichigo says, unpinning the rose and shoving it in her direction. But Inoue waves her hands in dissent.

            “Whoever gave that rose to Kurosaki-kun must want him to notice them, like the princess in the poem. I can’t take it from you.”

            The thought made a weird sort of feeling creep up Ichigo’s spine. It felt sort of good, but at the same time like it was uncomfortable touching a nerve. Who could have possibly given him this rose? And did they even know what it means? Why else would they have bothered to go buy such an unusual flower just for this sake. A yellow rose would have been cheaper.

            Ichigo shakes off these thoughts as he puts it back in his bag and enters his house. He eats dinner with his family, helps Yuzu with her homework and then does his own before going to sleep for the night. A cool breeze flows in through his open window, ruffling his orange hair.

            He has a very vivid dream that night. A silhouette wearing an indigo-colored kimono is sitting on the edge of his bed, stroking his hair as he sleeps. The long fingers are very soothing, and he feels more comfortable than he has in a long time. He can even ignore the nagging feeling that he shouldn’t be enjoying the foreign fingers on his cheek because it is as if a spell has taken over his body and it can’t help but just rest.

            It was nearing midnight when Kurosaki Isshin woke from fitful sleep. There was a strange fluctuation of reiatsu in the air that wouldn’t let him sit still. But the weird thing was, the waves of soul energy, like pulses, were the same that Ichigo usually oozed. Isshin remembers the one and only time there was a change in his son’s reiatsu. It was on that night that his mother died.

            Isshin shakes his head and toes on his slippers, making his way down the hall to Ichigo’s room. He quietly opens the door and sees tufts of orange peeking out of the top of a sheet. Nothing out of the ordinary. The man carefully shut the door and stepped quietly down the hallway with a frown on his face.

**❀**

            The next morning is Friday, and Ichigo goes to school as usual. On his way there, however, there was a terrible crash between a car and a telephone pole that caused him to have to walk an extra block to get through the street.

            The car is a small Honda whose hood had been so entirely smashed that the pole had gone straight through between the passenger seat and the driver’s seat. There were a few police cars and an ambulance at the scene, which would probably head to Ichigo’s dad pretty soon.

            But Ichigo simply frowned and walked quickly to the next block over. There was nothing the ambulance or clinic could do for those two now. The air was tinged heavily with the remainders of their life-like energy, and only the presence of disturbing spiritual energy was surrounding the area. It was akin to the feeling Ichigo got when a ghost had been following him around for a while. Those two were indeed gone.

            The orange-haired teen gets to school and notices that he’s the only one by the lockers in his row. The others are probably already in class already because he’s slightly late compared to usual. He starts reaching to put his shoes in his locker, when he suddenly remembers the day before and the blue rose. The teen examines the small box to see if there was anything in there that wasn’t supposed to be before he puts the shoes in. There isn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue to my multi-part Aizen/Ichigo fic. The regular chapters will be more meaty. Keep the warnings in mind.  
> I finally got a beta, so I will be updated the edits as well.  
> I hope you enjoy!


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